114 | SUNRISE

On the last day of the Reunion, I make a decision. An hour before dawn, I wake up and get Mom to come with me to the bluff overlooking the ocean. I’ve been internally battling with myself over the bucket list Mom told be about, wondering if I should try to get the last few of the list checked off. Or if I should try to put them off. Last night, I realized it was selfish of me to put it off.

Mom made that list for herself - a last wish sort of thing that includes me in it. I can’t deny that the idea of completing it is somehow find in my mind, like after there’d be nothing tethering her to the earth, but it’s self-serving to leave if unfinished. I need to help her complete it if this is what she wants. And it is.

So when I go to her room and wake her up, letting her know it’s an hour before sunrise, and that we’re going to the bluff, she puts two-and-two together. The smile she gives me is the best and worst thing in the world. Best because it lights up the room, worst, because the same…and I just pray it’s not the last time I’ll see it.

Her aura is fuzzier today, I note thirty minutes later as we make our way deeper into the wooded area, heading east to the cliff overlooking the ocean. The odd stabby-force that was horrible yesterday is gone today, leaving a sort of void in its place…and an odd sense of peace. I’m not sure how else to explain it, bu everything about her today seems faded.

Mom’s skin’s pale, but there’s a conflicting rosy flush in her cheeks that makes me a little more relaxed, even if her pace is slow and her breathing is a little more labored than it should be. We’re walking at a slow pace, the trees parting and becoming fewer as we get to the edge of the cliff. I place a hand a her back, more to keep pace with her than to make her go any faster.

Mom huffs and puffs softly, the morning unseasonably warm and comfortable, but Mom’s wrapped in another blanket, bundled tight. I’ve got the thermos with hot coffee tucked under one arm and the two metal cups hooked onto it’s side. Mom leans into me the last few feet, and my arm hooks around her waist to support some of her weight.

I can feel the unsteady flutter of her heartbeat against my hand through the blanket as we settle on one of the large boulders perched a few feet from the edge. Her whole body jostles and sag a bit as we settle onto the unforgiving surface. The deep indigo of the sky is just blooming with the rosy hues of pre-dawn, lightening the color steadily in anticipation of the sun. For a moment, I wonder if I have enough time to run back to the cabin and bring back a pillow for Mom to sit on, but - as if she can read my mind - Mom places a hand on my knee to stop me.

“This is fine, Wisty,” Mom tells me softly, her voice almost getting lost in the cool air with how soft it is. I hesitate, my muscles tensing and instinct to stay close to her warring with my need to make sure she’s comfortable.

“You sure?” I ask, making my own voice soft. It’s like we’re whispering as if not to wake the world around us - even though the forest behind us is anything but silent.

“I’m positive,” Mom replies, patting my knee reassuringly. I give her a tight nod and force my body to relax. WIthout another word, I pull the thermos from under my arm and unhook the cups from the side. Mom waits patiently as I serve us both coffee and pass her the cup I’ve brought for her. My chest is back to being slowly constricted, the pounding in my chest that is my heart is almost as unorganized as the beating of Mom’s. The need for connection burns in my body, my wolf is pacing in me, pressing tight to the surface of my skin and making the crazy cadence of my heart worse. Mom’s hand pats my knee again, pressing down just a little harder, and I know she feels the same.

We stare out across the crashing waves, my eyes tracing over each white capped tip and out to the horizon.

“So, sunrise?” I ask Mom after a few more beats of silence. I don’t wan to spend the next twenty minutes in utter silence. There’s just too little time with her now. I feel as if the weight in my chest is a clock counting down, getting heavier like the bottom of an hour glass filling with sand.

“Sunrise is transitional and so is sunset,” Mom answers the unspoken portion of my question, her own eyes glued to the now flaring fuchsia hue in the distance. “I used to watch the day dawn every morning we were apart,” She explain as the blue leaks completely from the sky, the radiance of the sun poking up from the brighter part of he sky a throwing beams of light across the ocean. Suddenly, it’s like the vast water in front of us is made of sunshine. The breath in my lungs catches as I see the dancing fire that is the water reddening with the rising sun. “I thought it would be nice to watch one with you for a change.” She ends as the ball of light that is the sun fully emerges from the horizon and the water reflects it’s radiance.

Again, Mom’s hand is patting my knee, comforting me as the tightening in my chest reaches new heights. Mom’s words register as the world’s magical coloring returns to normal and I feel the hot streams of tears sliding from my eyes beginning to cool as the breeze skims over us. The sounds of nature and crashing waves against the bluff slowly grow in volume, returning to normal in my ears as the day starts.

I’m not sure how long we stay out on the cliff, soaking in the light of the sun and watching the waves coming and going. Eventually, the sounds of the waking Reiniers and playful screeches break the peace and illusion of perfection the moment had placed us in. I down the cold coffee, cringing a little as the chilled liquid slides down my throat and hop off the rock we’d been perched on.

“Let’s enjoy the rest of the Reunion.” I tell Mom, tucking the thermos back under one arm and taking Mom’s empty cup to hook back to the side.

“Yes,” Mom agrees, her voice still at the gentleness that’s now starting to bother me, but the brightness in her tone eases the niggling worry in my head. I hold one hand out to her, helping her get to her feet before we start making our way to the cabin area.

We arrive just as Paris clambers onto the steps of the main house, and Mom and I find out way easily through the crowd of Wolven watching as my cousin makes the morning announcements. Once Mom’s settled on a step, I tune into what Paris is saying, catching the tail-end of the report for the events of the week and long-winded thanks to everyone who helped out with cooking and cleaning.

That’s when I notice how tense she is, and how closely Ryker and Craven are flanking her from behind. The rest of the Reiniers are leaning against the steps in the immediate area around the cabin, facing out rather than watching their Alpha speak. Watching, like the predators they are, for signs of attack and danger. My eyes skim over the clusters of gathered allies, noting how on-guard those who’re gathered around the French Wolven hover in a similar pattern, mirroring the Reiniers. Unlike Paris, however, their Alpha is watching with a unnatural ease to his body and hungry gaze.

The Reunion may be close to over, but I have a feeling Paris’ problems are just getting started.

- - - - - -

***Hey everyone,***

***Hope you are all enjoying the book so far! I just wanted to let everyone know (if you haven't guessed already) that the updates are goign to be a little more irregular going forward. Please continue to be patient, and know I'm working on completing this book on-time (there are probably going to be about 30ish chapters left for me to write/post). That being said, I am going to try to post two more chapters before Tuesday to make-up for the lack of consistant posting this past week. I will also be trying to get back to some sort of normal schedule for my other books, but know this one comes first - since it's almost complete.***

***Thanks again for all your continued support!***